mountains. Tomorrow they would head into the rising sun over the most dangerous stretch, wide valleys with little cover. Making a cold camp in a hidden hollow, Gaelen took the first watch. After an hour Layne moved through the darkness to sit beside him.
“Can’t you sleep?” asked Gaelen.
“No, cousin. I wish you had brought Render with you. I feel uneasy.”
“He’s well trained,” said Gaelen, “but he’s still a hound, and his hunting might have alerted the Aenir.”
“It is not the Aenir that concern me,” whispered Layne.
“You are still thinking about the wolves?”
“Aye-and the beast which killed the Queen.” The moon cleared the clouds and Gaelen looked at his friend. Layne’s hair glinted silver in the moonlight.
Gaelen shivered. “You think they might be demons?”
“I hope not,” said Layne. “But if they are-and they continued to follow the child-I fear for Lennox.”
Gaelen put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “If any man can survive against such beasts, Lennox will. I have no fears for him.”
Layne smiled. “He is uncommonly strong.” For a time they sat together in silence, then Layne spoke again. “Did you propose to Deva?”
“Yes. She spurned me.”
“Me too. Some nonsense about birthing kings. I think she’ll grow out of it. Will you continue to court her?”
“No, Layne.”
“I shall. Once we have crushed the Aenir, I shall pursue her with such ardor that she will melt into my arms.” He grinned, looking suddenly boyish again.
Gaelen smiled. “I wish you good fortune, my friend.”
“I think I’ll get some sleep now,” said Layne.
“Layne!” whispered Gaelen as his friend rose.
“What?”
“I never really thanked you for standing up for me on that first day, when Agwaine drew his knife. You made me feel welcome among the Farlain and I’ll not forget it. And if ever you need me, I will be there for you.”
Layne said nothing, but he smiled and then moved back to his blanket. Gaelen kept watch for another two hours, then he woke Ridan.
“You’ve ruined a fine dream,” muttered the clansman, sitting up and yawning.
Gaelen crossed the clearing and lay down. Sleep came instantly, but a faint rustling brought him awake. Was one of the others moving around? He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and listened again.
Silence.
No! There was the sound again, away to the right.
An animal? A bird?
Gaelen curled his hand around the short sword lying next to him, gently easing it from the leather scabbard. He felt foolish, thinking back to the first night he had spent in the open with Caswallon, when the fox had terrified him.
A crunching noise, followed by a bubbling gurgle, brought him to his feet and the clouds above moved away from the moon. A scene of horror met his eyes. Five huge beasts were crouching in the camp. Ridan lay dead, his throat ripped apart, while another body was being dragged toward a screen of bushes.
Gaelen froze.
One beast, red eyes glinting, reared up on its hind legs and ran silently toward him. Gaelen shouted a warning and Onic rolled to his feet, his arm flashing back and then forward. His hunting knife shot across the camp to plunge deep into the beast’s back; it howled then, rending the night silence. Gaelen leaped forward, ramming his sword into the beast’s chest. Talons lashed at him and he jumped back, releasing the blade. Then Gwalchmai ran forward and hurled his knife, which thudded into the creature’s neck.
And the clouds closed, darkness blinding them all.
Gaelen dived for his pack, scrabbling at the canvas lip. Delving inside, he produced his tinderbox. There were only a few shredded leaves inside, but he was desperate for light. Twice the sparks jumped and then a tiny flame licked out. Holding up the box like a flickering candle, Gaelen turned. He could see Agwaine, Onic, and Gwalchmai standing together with swords in hand. On the ground nearby lay the hideous corpse of the dead beast. Elsewhere there was no sign of the pack.
The others joined him, gathering twigs and branches, and they built a fire, heedless of any danger from the Aenir. Agwaine took a burning branch and moved to the spot where Layne had slept. The ground was wet with blood, and his body was lying some twenty feet away. Ridan’s corpse was nowhere in sight.
Gaelen moved to where Layne lay and with trembling hands turned over the corpse. Layne’s throat had been ripped away, but his face was untouched and his grey eyes were open, staring at nothing. Gaelen sank back. Gwalchmai knelt by the body and reached out, his fingers tenderly brushing the skin of Layne’s face. “Oh, God,” said Gwalchmai. Gaelen lifted Layne’s hand, picturing him as he had been only a few hours before-tall, handsome, and in love.
“I promised to be there for you, and I wasn’t,” he said. “I am so sorry, Layne.”
“We must bury him-deep,” said Agwaine.
“We can’t,” said Gaelen. “The fire will have alerted the Aenir, and the beasts could return at any time. We must push on.”
“I’ll not have him devoured by those creatures!” stormed Agwaine.
Gaelen rose, tears shining in his eyes. “You think I do not feel exactly the same, Agwaine? But Layne is gone. His spirit has fled; all that is left is dead flesh which, even if we bury it, will be devoured by maggots. The Farlain need us, Layne does not. Now let us move.”
“But we don’t know where those creatures are,” objected Gwalchmai. “We could run right into them.”
“And if we don’t,” snapped Gaelen, “then by morning we’ll all be blood-eagled to the trees.”
“Gaelen is right. It’s time to move,” said Agwaine. “Kill the fire.”
Donning their packs they set off toward the east, where the dark line of the Carduil range could be seen against the sky. They walked with swords in hand, saying little, and the journey was fraught with fear. The storm clouds passed over them, lightning flashing to the south, and the moon shone bright.
“By the Gods, look!” exclaimed Gwalchmai.
On either side of them, some twenty paces distant, dark shadows could be seen moving from bush to bush.
“How many?” hissed Agwaine.
“Four,” answered Onic.
Swiftly they doffed their packs, stringing the short hunting bows.
“Wait!” said Gaelen. “Let us each pick a target, for once they learn the power of the bow they will be more wary.”
Gwalchmai eased back on the string. “All right. I’ll take the one on the left at the rear.”
Choosing their targets they waited patiently, Gwalchmai and Onic kneeling, Agwaine and Gaelen facing right with bows half drawn.
The werebeasts crouched in the bushes, confused and uncertain. They could not see the shining talons that had cut down their comrade, only long sticks of wood. But they were wary. The leader edged forward, raising his head. The scent of warm flesh caused his stomach to tighten and saliva dripped from his maw. He moved into the open on all fours, edging still closer. A second followed him. On the other side a third beast was in view.
More clouds bunched above them, the sky darkening.
Gaelen cursed. “Let fly… NOW!”
Shafts hissed through the night air. The leader howled as the missile sliced into his chest, spearing his lungs. Blood filled his throat and the howling ceased. Behind him the second thrashed about in the bushes, an arrow through his eye.
To the left Gwalchmai’s target had dropped without a sound, shot through the heart. Only Onic had not let fly. His target had remained in the bushes. Alone and frightened, it sprinted away to the west.
